the kind of people we are
by whatswiththemustache
Summary: In which Danny still struggles to manage his PTSD, and Jessica puts a moment's hold on the whole not caring thing to help him out.


This city is out to get them. Danny's beginning to see no other explanation for how these things just _happen_. The entirety of New York is simply a ticking bomb, and the only way to help anyone is to get to the danger areas first and somehow control the detonation. It's a vague plan and it sometimes goes south _fast_ , but it's something.

It's also the best plan that they could have, really, because it's a constant reminder that they _are_ needed. Feeling needed is something that Danny is only getting used to. It's a good feeling.

He needs all the good feelings he can get, when things like _this_ keep happening.

It started out small – the idea was simple, easy, nothing that a couple of regular crime-fighters couldn't handle. It had just been him and Jessica – she wasn't his first choice when it came to working together, but he sure wasn't going to complain. Danny spent enough of his time trying to get the so-called Defenders to all agree that this whole team idea was indeed a good prospect. Jessica tended to spend most of her time saying the opposite, so the fact that she had even agreed to work with him in the first place was already a small miracle.

He probably should've stopped to remember that miracles aren't free, no matter how small.

All they had to do was follow a possible lead for a case that they'd all been involved in – this was Danny's discovery, Jessica's case. Tail the guy, figure out who he's meeting, follow the next guy, see where things end up. It wasn't supposed to get messy – and yet it only takes a few short moments for things to escalate from relative calm to full on hell.

Danny and Jessica had followed the guy onto a bus, both ignoring each other and doing their best to remain inconspicuous – it had seemed to work, and the target in question hadn't seemed to notice them. That was fine, until it became obvious that he didn't seem to be noticing _anything_ , and suddenly there weren't any passengers left besides them and the driver was all of the sudden looking much less like an average civilian than a vaguely menacing thug. Maybe it was Danny's fault for getting recognized – maybe it was Jessica's fault for throwing the first punch. It really doesn't matter – Danny somehow doubts that a situation like this was ever avoidable in the first place.

It's all fine, completely manageable. Between the two of them, Danny and Jessica make quick work of their suddenly-aggressive "lead". Everything is rattling, and the unreliable motion of the bus is distracting, to say the least, but it's fine. It's fine, it's all fine, until Danny turns to face the front of the bus and there suddenly isn't a driver up front anymore, and the double doors are hanging open despite the various red warning lights and the bus is still careering forward, faster now, straight for the nondescript brick building up ahead. The sound has grown even louder, banging and groaning and roaring, and the huge vehicle is beginning to screech as it starts to veer off course – and Danny is still standing there, staring ahead, trying to remember how to breathe because _this wasn't supposed to happen_.

Not here.

Jessica's voice is screaming hoarsely from somewhere, shouting his name, and the bus suddenly jerks wildly – Danny finds himself stumbling, reaching up to grab hold of the cold metal poles overhead, squeezing his eyes shut even though it does nothing to pause the images flashing behind his eyelids. He can feel the bus racing forward – the building drawing closer – the crash hurtling nearer.

The darkness behind his closed eyes is fading to white, and the roaring is turning to crying – howling – screaming his name –

Bracing for the impact does nothing. Everything is in motion one second, straining forward unstoppably, and then suddenly it's all slammed to a halt, gravity abruptly striking from behind – the entire world could have exploded, and it might have felt the same. The walls bend away, the ceiling caves in – everything is sparks and sound and that flickering, swirling _white_ , flitting like snow through his mind.

Even when everything stops screeching, when the metal floor beneath him stops moving – around him, the world is still ending. A too-tight safety belt is digging into his stomach, and a plane is being ripped apart around him – the sound of it is ear-shattering, or maybe that's just his screams – the air around him is going white.

"Danny! Shit – you okay?"

The howling drops to a dull roar, a droning that refuses to relent. It's sickening - everything, even the distant knowledge that they _are_ safe, that this is a bus and not a plane, is just making him sick. Danny clutches his hands to his head, pressing his fists into his skull as hard as he can, squeezing his eyes shut as if that'll somehow make this all go away.

There's a hand gripping at his shoulder, yanking him upright – more muttered cursing, shuffling as a too-strong force pulls him along, somehow keeping him standing. All he wants to do is collapse – explode – his head hurts, his knuckles hurt, he's panting, gasping and everything is still roaring –

Time doesn't seem to be working right – he's stumbling over solid ground now, being dragged along and barely keeping his legs moving beneath him – it feels like a mere instant later that the support is gone, and instead he's being shoved back against a rough, sturdy surface. He lets himself slam into it, and the pain jars against him – a slight, dull, faded sort of pain, one that immediately sinks into his body and vanishes somewhere beneath all of this relentless _sound_.

"…Danny! _Danny_! What the hell is wrong with you?" Anger, irritation, maybe even a hint of concern - there's pressure on his shoulders, tight and grounding, and he forces his eyes to flicker open. Jessica's face is less than a foot away – scowling, eyebrows pinched, panting slightly as she gapes at him in some combination of shock and apprehension.

He tries to look at her, to _see_ her – but his eyes close shut again on their own accord, and the only thing that Danny can see is someone else's face, leaning close before everything falls apart. Short black hair framing her face, soft eyes despite the panic – a cool hand across his cheek, just before it rips away. _We've got you, Danny–_

" _Hey_! Look, just calm down – just…take a deep breath or something–"

He tries. He gasps for breath, trying to loosen the tension running through his entire body – Danny knows where he is, he knows that Jessica is upset, he knows that they're fine. He _knows_ – but his heart won't cease pounding, and his body refuses to calm. His mind won't _stop_ –

"I can't," he bites out, gritting his teeth together – his fists are still grinding into his forehead, desperate to squash out the uncontrollable memories raging through his mind. "I _can't_ , I don't know…" White – flickering snow, freezing cold. He squeezes his eyes shut harder, ignoring the pressure building in his head.

Through the roaring, he hears her curse again – she's angry, and it's his fault, he knows. _Focus_ – he can't even begin to try and settle, to center his chi. His energy has solidified, freezing up somewhere in his chest, locking away his strength and leaving him immobile. His lungs won't cooperate –

"Yes, you can." Jessica's voice is firm, still tense but stronger. She grips onto his shoulders tighter, still holding him up. "Just breathe – do your Buddhist shit or whatever-"

Even Jessica's reluctant attempts at trying to help sound irritated – he knows this is doing nothing for their already rocky relationship, that Jessica probably wants even less to do with him now – it's his fault, again. Of course it is, and yet there's no room for him to be ashamed at this – everything is still shuddering, reeling out of control. _Can't breathe_.

"I didn't think this would happen," exhales Danny heavily – he can feel himself shaking, rattling without restraint. This isn't new – his mind knows the facts, yes, but that doesn't seem to matter. _Safety. The monks – Chodak, Tashi. Safe_. He can't picture it. "I didn't – I thought that it would stop – but I'm still – I can't get the crash out of my head–"

Roaring. He can't escape into darkness – there's only snow, pale and lonely and sharp like glass.

Jessica sighs again, releasing her tight grip on him– another curse, muttered this time, reluctant and resigned. He stands, somehow – pressing himself back into the wall behind him as hard as he can, barely tuning out all the noise as she takes a long breath, clearly dissatisfied with all of this. "That plane crash, huh," she says, her words slow. "Your parents died."

 _I love you, Danny._ His father's face appears in his mind again, not smiling like in all the photos – frowning, scared, dead. His breath shudders through him, refusing to fill his lungs.

Howling. The wind screams – or maybe it's just Jessica shifting on her feet, the rough sound of fabric brushing against fabric, another heavy sigh. "Hey, look – just focus on me, okay?" She pauses, maybe waiting – Danny can only shake his head, panting, struggling to pry his thoughts free. She sighs again – harsher, almost angry again, except not. "Danny. Hey – listen. I get it, okay? You're not the only one who's lost people."

His ears are still pounding – but there's something in her voice that gets Danny to look up, somehow ignoring some of it – she's squinting at him, her mouth turned down in an unhappy grimace. Frowning, she glances away – maybe it's the loss of eye contact, the removal of something to pay attention to, that sends his lungs tightening again, his knuckles jamming harder against his skull. Still – it doesn't feel like enough, but he takes a breath, and keeps his eyes from squeezing shut.

"It's hard. Even if it's been a long time. Some things even time can't fix." She licks her lips fleetingly, eyes darting away from him – but still she stands there, and every word is firm and pointed, forced out as if she'd packed every ounce of available effort into them just so she would only have to say them once.

He feels like he might crumble if he opens his mouth to ask, but it also doesn't feel like there's any other option – Danny releases the little breath caught in his chest, taking another, willing his body to stop shaking. It doesn't work, but it's enough for this. "W-who did you lose?" Thunder still rages in the back of his mind, but it's possible to push it down now, if only for a moment.

She pauses, letting her eyes slide back over to him – her whole body looks stiff, like she's forcing herself not to take off down the street and leave him behind. A reluctant compromise – clearly not happy with the situation, but willing to stay anyway. Jessica takes a slow breath, still scowling – he gets the feeling that it's not directed at him, this time.

"My parents. My little brother," she says, and the words sound uncomfortable, twisted by a lack of familiarity. She tilts her head to the left slightly, lips curling with a kind of bitter grimace. _How ironic_. "Car crash – I was the only survivor."

It's her expression that says it all – she's still squinting at him, eyebrows pinched together, almost like she's just waiting, daring him to say something that makes her regret all of this. Her words are like punches to the gut – if he'd been having trouble breathing before, it was nothing to the feeling he was experiencing now. It's those words – _parents, crash, survivor_ – that make his head ache even more, pounding behind his eyes – but it's the way she's standing, the look in her eyes, that somehow calms his limbs, smoothing the tremors away.

 _Only survivor._ "…I didn't know," he says eventually, letting the words replace the air he should be exhaling – that comes later, slower, but it's a start. The howling is beginning to die down, and it's replaced with cold. "I'm so sorry." Merely a condolence, but he knows better than anyone that there's really no better version of those three words.

Jessica turns her head again, pressing her lips together – the closest thing to an acknowledgement anyone could hope for, in this situation – before she shifts on her feet, not quite shrugging. "Point is," she says loudly, facing him again. "It sucks. Feeling guilty, even though you know you weren't to blame. Not the kind of thing you can just work out."

There's a blunt, steady purpose behind her words, almost forced but not enough to hide the honesty of what she's saying. He doesn't listen harder to find out what that purpose is, because he's somehow breathing again, taking in short, shallow breaths, and he can't help but wonder.

"How did you?" he asks, frowning curiously at her – Danny lets his fists start to unclench, not daring to marvel at the fact that they can. He doesn't catch himself in time to stop the sidelong glance down the alley, though, revealing the shattered frame of the bus, surrounded by debris and destruction. _Breathe._ "Work it out, I mean."

Jessica turns to look too, eyes narrowed as she takes in the wreckage. Another slow breath, almost as if she's considering whether or not it's worth it so say anything else – or maybe not, because she keeps her eyes on the crumpled bus, sighing with only the slightest trace of regret.

"I accepted that I was to blame, after all," says Jessica, shrugging with an almost practiced ease. "But that it wasn't my fault."

She turns back to him again, tilting her head onto her shoulder as she cocks an eyebrow in complete seriousness – for once the irony is gone from her voice, and the ridicule has faded.

Maybe half of his mind is still focused on trying to breathe again – or really, maybe her words are simply that type of complicated. Danny inhales, exhales, more fully this time, almost normally – so much that he finds it in himself to purse his lips at that, scoffing in a quiet show of agreement, because he gets it. Or anyway, he thinks he could – still Danny breathes, loosens the tension from his muscles, settles onto the hard pavement as if he hadn't been on his toes this entire time. Another breath, and he can feel his chi relaxing, releasing the pressure and turning fluid as it pools like a warm spring, deep in his chest.

He can feel Jessica watching him as he breathes, eyes fluttered half-shut – he welcomes that consciousness of her, relieved at the return of control as he shifts her into the back of his mind. She doesn't move, and neither does he – not until he feels his heart beating slow and calm, measured and steady and normal.

It's only when he feels the last of that lingering panic slip away, leaving just weariness and the quiet notion of being tainted in its wake, that Danny opens his eyes again. Jessica observes him from a few steps away, waiting as if she's half-expecting him to freak out again – he'd be burning with shame, maybe, except that now he's got his emotions under control again and he certainly doesn't feel like letting them out now. Still – it's uncomfortable. Danny blinks, meeting Jessica's calculated gaze with raised eyebrows and an attempted smile that's probably more of a grimace.

"…Sorry," says Danny softly, sighing quietly – he spreads his hands in a short motion, ducking his head briskly. He hopes that he doesn't appear reluctant, because there's not a lot further from the truth. "And – well, thank you."

There's no doubt that she'll know exactly why his apology is so weary, and just what he's thanking her for. His attempt at a smile is probably more sad than not, more rueful than pleased – it's only then that Jessica seems to let out a real sigh, shoulders slumping down as she takes a step back. She shrugs again, looking away with a shake of her head.

"You good?" Jessica asks warily, her eyes flitting back to him – she leans back on the heels of her feet, reluctance and hesitance layered over the hint of concern still peering out at him.

Danny nods, stepping away from the wall and folding his arms in front of his chest. It's the kind of _good_ that feels forged, shaky and see-through, but it's better than being completely shattered. At least now he can take all of that inevitable regret, the unavoidable embarrassment that seems to come hand in hand, and push them down, shaping them into something more positive. After all – this may have been something of a disaster, but there was always a plus side. Jessica's still here – small miracles, apparently.

"Yeah. I am now," says Danny, shrugging lightly and letting his smile widen cautiously – after a moment of silence, he dips his head apologetically, still watching Jessica as she eyes him cautiously. "So really – thank you." This is something that he doesn't mind saying twice – that's better than not saying it enough, especially to Jessica of all people.

"Don't mention it," replies Jessica, pressing her lips together as she shakes her hair out of her face. There must be something in his face that she catches – Danny raises his eyebrows, opening his mouth to speak, and she cuts him off with an exasperated scowl. "No, really – don't."

She continues to watch him with a sidelong glare, and it somehow seems more half-hearted than any of Jessica's glares had ever felt before. Danny stays where he is, eyes widening in silent question when she doesn't move either. It's a long moment, stiff and expectant, before she sighs harshly and shakes her head in exasperation, turning away.

"Let's go," mutters Jessica, teetering on the edge of movement – Danny shifts, making to follow her, and she immediately takes off in a swinging stride. He speeds up, hurrying alongside her with ease, something that Jessica pointedly ignores.

"I just mean," says Danny after a moment, keeping his eyes trained on her face persistently. This isn't something that he has any intention of just letting slide – not yet. "You didn't have to do that. It means a lot."

"It doesn't mean anything," replies Jessica sourly, tilting her head just enough to give him a sideways glare that would sting in any other situation. Danny just raises his eyebrows silently, only daring the slightest hint of a smile – Jessica really does roll her eyes now, sighing once again in long-suffering exasperation, but there's an upwards twist to her lips, and she scoffs in a way that's not entirely hostile. "And yeah. Sure I did."

The lack of obvious sarcasm is enough to widen Danny's smile into the makings of a grin, and of course Jessica continues a moment later with a mocking lilt to her voice, loud and skeptical – rude, maybe, but it's still somehow benign. "That's just the kind of people we are, right?"

She glances away, smirking, and Danny quirks an eyebrow curiously. "What – heroes?"

The look of repugnance on her face is immediate and undiluted – Jessica turns to gape at him in disgust, clearly rendered speechless. There's no telling how long the silence would have lasted if only Danny hadn't sorted in amusement, grinning at the look on her face.

"Just kidding."

Her scoff is completely unsympathetic this time, and her eye roll is practically audible. "Whatever," says Jessica, the smile clear in her voice. "I was going to say a bunch of screwed-up, orphaned circus freaks, but sure."

Danny nods slowly, unable to keep the smile off his face – they meet eyes for a split-second, and suddenly it's the both of them grinning, laughing, and it's definitely not funny, but they laugh anyway. The alley rings pleasantly with the sound, maybe too loud, too conspicuous, but they take the moment to ignore it, and Danny just hopes that it's only the beginning.

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A/N: I can't actually contain my excitement for the Defenders any longer, and tbh all I really hope at this point is that eventually, everyone can become pals. I'm beyond ready for team bickering but also… just judging by the trailer, I kind of really hope that Jessica and Danny don't literally hate each other the entire time. Because. Danny Rand is a cinnamon roll. I'm sorry but he is okay.

Also also, just gonna put this out there – Iron Fist had its problems, yes, sure, but personally I loved it anyway? I mean? Sorry, but casting Finn Jones was not whitewashing – that happened back in the 70s when Danny Rand as a character was created, as the character in comics was always white because that's the way they made him (through whitewashing). So tbh it's fine that people have a problem with that, I get it, but the show was true to the comics and tbh Finn Jones was an amazing Iron Fist who worked with what he was given and did his best okay? I think we should all just appreciate another great show that Marvel has given us and stop complaining and hating PLEASE my heart can't take it

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Anyways yeah that's my rant thanks for reading hope you liked =)


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